Addicted to the Light

by S. E. Amadis

  Calvin nodded his head thoughtfully.

  “Yeah. You’re right, Linds.”

  “I want to go home,” I whispered.

  “We’re having none of that.” Lindsay’s face was forbidding, like that of a tyrannical matriarch. “We’re going someplace where they can take good care of you is where you ought to be going right now.”

  “You can take care of me, at home,” I replied meekly.

  Lindsay snorted.

  We ended up snatching a taxi to a hospital after all.

  “But in, and out,” I said. “I don’t feel like hanging around and giving explanations to anyone.”

  The doctor, however, had different ideas.

  “I don’t care what you want, Annasuya,” he told me. “Someone attacked you. That’s a criminal act, and I have to report this to the police.”

  “I don’t know who did it,” I said defensively. “I have my suspicions, but no proof of any sort.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  It seemed to take forever before they finally released me and let me go home.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” Lindsay’s expression was genuinely contrite. “I don’t know what got into me. If I hadn’t been so insistent on dragging you to this temple, this never would have happened.”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s not your fault. This could’ve happened anywhere. It’s clear that psycho is following me about.” I glanced around at them. “But how did he get me away from the temple without any of you noticing?”

  Lindsay frowned.

  “I dunno. One minute we were chanting and dancing, and the next you were simply gone. At first I thought you’d wandered off, maybe exploring the room or gone to dance with someone.”

  “Huh? Who would I go to dance with? It’s not like I knew anyone there.”

  Lindsay shrugged.

  “I dunno. People seem very free with their affections there. Let the love and wine flow kinda thing, you know.”

  I scowled.

  “You know me, Linds. I don’t go off with just anyone.”

  Calvin intervened.

  “At least I hope this has driven all this nonsense about you joining a sect from your daft little head, Lindsay.” His frown was disapproving.

  Lindsay batted at him.

  “Yeah, you’re right. This is a sign, I’m sure. This wasn’t the right place for me.”

  Calvin’s sigh of relief was audible.

  “Who wants dinner? I can order some takeout rotis.”

  Romeo leapt up.

  “Me! Me!”

  I knew, of course, that my lack of culinary skills was legendary. Lindsay glared at us.

  “But don’t think you’re going to wriggle off the hook that easy, Mr Calvin Klein. There is someplace out there that’s right for me. Some community that will embrace me and bring spirituality and a sense of purpose to my life. A family I can finally belong to. And I’m going to find it.”

  The look on her face was grim, determined.

  Chapter 4

  Romeo’s birthday was in the height of summertime. Some classmates of his organized a party for him at a McDonald’s. Lindsay and I watched the kids load up with junk food, French fries and ketchup and frothy milkshakes all mixed together in some unhealthy, innutritious jumble.

  “I just hope he doesn’t get a tummy-ache,” I said, fussing like any regular mother.

  Lindsay batted at me. “What? A tummy-ache? At McDonald’s? Do you know generations have dined here on a regular basis and far’s I’m aware, no kid’s ever died from this yet. What do you have against McDonald’s anyway?”

  I glared at her, wondering at her sudden staunch support of American franchises.

  “Nothing, Linds. I just happen to find the food disgusting is all. But go ahead,” I added as I noticed the longing glint in her eye. “Go and pig out on something. Shoot your cholesterol levels up sky high, why don’t you. Not like I care.”

  Lindsay whooped and sashayed away, returning a few minutes later with a few droopy potato sticks in a greasy bag.

  “My mom says, she wants to invite Romeo over to celebrate his birthday.” I could barely understand what she was saying as she chomped on chewy fries. “Well, not just Romeo, of course. I meant, all three of you.”

  “Don’t chew with your mouth open,” I admonished automatically.

  Lindsay grinned and swallowed.

  “So? You coming?”

  “When? And when ever did your mother take any interest in me? I don’t even know her.”

  Lindsay chomped more fries.

  “Besides which, I thought you didn’t get along.”

  Lindsay gulped again.

  “Not really. But we’re on speaking terms, at least. And for once that she’s got this nice gesture...” She scooped up the last fry with a groan of disappointment. “And the food’ll probably meet even your strict criteria.”

  I nodded, relenting.

  “Okay. When is it?”

  The following weekend found us chasing Lindsay through a trite suburban town. Debbie Johnson owned a neat bungalow with a white picket fence surrounding the front yard. I couldn’t imagine the unpredictable Lindsay growing up in modern suburbia surrounded by a conventional, uneventful lifestyle and conventional, uneventful fittings. A trim row of peonies and pink and white chrysanthemums marched in staid attention along the front wall of the unremarkable home while two plastic flamingos perched in one-legged solidarity in the middle of the yard, their expressions betraying surprise and agitation. I supposed they didn’t quite enjoy belonging to Mrs Johnson.

  Mrs Johnson opened her arms towards us with false affection as we strolled up the drive.

  “Welcome. Welcome, my lovely chicks.” She crushed Romeo’s head against her ample bosom. “So this is the birthday boy? You’re going to love my cake. I baked it myself. It’s chocolate. You like chocolate, don’t you? All kids love chocolate.”

  Lindsay pecked a cursory kiss on her mother’s cheek.

  “Mom, I see you’ve met Romeo already. This is my bestie, Annasuya, and her boyfriend, Calvin.”

  Mrs Johnson pumped Calvin’s hand heartily a few times, then grabbed me into a stifling embrace and pressed my face against the folds of flab surrounding her bosom. Her jiggly flesh smelled of cumin and anise seeds.

  “So you’re the mother of this commendable young man. Come in. Come in. Make yourselves at home.”

  She started stalking into her house, dragging my head with her and forcing me to scramble. I tried to pry myself away tactfully.

  “Thank you, Mrs Johnson—”

  Mrs Johnson pressed her finger against my lips.

  “I’ll have none of that Mrs Johnson nonsense here. My name’s Debbie, and I want you to use it.”

  I smiled.

  “Thanks so much for taking the time, Debbie. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

  “Trouble? Trouble? You know it’s no trouble for me at all. On the contrary, normally I’m bored, all alone out here all by myself every day, just staring at the walls.”

  “You know you should develop some interests, Mom,” Lindsay cut in. “It’s not good for you to hang about all by yourself all the time.”

  Debbie waved her hand at Lindsay and closed the door.

  “Bah. You know I’ve got plenty of interests. Just the pity you don’t share them with me.”

  She glared at her daughter accusingly. Lindsay turned her gaze away. Debbie ushered us into a spacious dining room. The tantalizing aroma of roast and gravy hit our nostrils. My mouth watered.

  “Have a seat, you lot. I’m not having the food get cold on us, after slaving away over it all morning.”

  “Oh, Mrs Johnson, this is too much.” A kaleidoscope of expressions flitted across Calvin’s face. He settled on one of cordial neutrality. “You didn’t have to go to so much bother for a bunch of strangers.”

  Debbie waved her hand again.

  “Bother, bah. I told you, young ma
n, it’s no trouble for me at all. And did you forget? My name’s Debbie, you know.”

  “Sorry, Debbie.” A sheepish grin crossed Calvin’s face.

  Debbie settled us merrily about the table, then served a steaming pot roast with gravy and spongy Yorkshire pudding. Romeo almost leapt on top of it.

  “My British in-laws used to serve us this every Sunday lunch,” she said, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a napkin. “When they were still around, I mean.” Her expression brightened. “At least I know my late husband’s safe in limbo with them, awaiting the moment of their glorious resurrection.”

  Lindsay smiled wanly and picked at her roast.

  “You spend too much time alone, Mom.”

  Debbie pressed her napkin primly against her lips.

  “I’m not always alone, you know, my dear. My sisters do come by fairly often.”

  “That sounds nice,” I commented. “I’m glad to hear you’ve got your sisters to keep you company.”

  Lindsay hissed at me.

  “They are not her sisters. They’re her sect mates.”

  “They are not a sect, young lady.” Debbie glared in disapproval at her daughter. “This is a respectable and officially recognized religion I belong to. And my sisters mean the world to me. At least they are always there when I need them. Unlike some people I can think of.”

  She sighed. There was something self-righteous and holier-than-thou in that sigh.

  “To think I went to all the trouble of raising you, for this. And how do you pay me back, you ungrateful young lady? By coming to see me only once every three or four months or so, or whenever it occurs to you to remember that you have a mother? And that’s it? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

  Lindsay stabbed at a slab of beef with her fork.

  “I’m busy,” she said, hemming and hawing.

  “I’m sure you are. Being a real estate agent’s nasty business, I’ve no doubt about that. What? You even have to show houses on Sundays?”

  “Sometimes,” Lindsay shot back, defensive. “But even when I don’t, I do still have a life, you know. You know, friends, acquaintances. Sometimes the occasional client as well. Some people prefer to discuss the possibility of buying a home over a relaxed Sunday lunch rather than in an office.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure the money you make is certainly a neat incentive as well.”

  Debbie raised her hand and waved her fork in the air. Lindsay shot her a murderous look.

  “Well, at least I don’t have to beg my mother for money, like some young people do.”

  Debbie raised her hand again, shaking the fork some more. Then she changed her mind and laid her fork calmly on her plate, beaming round at us, suddenly overly delighted.

  “You ready for that chocolate cake, young man?”

  Romeo was only halfway through his roast, but he dropped his fork obediently onto his plate.

  “Sure,” he replied, gulping.

  Lindsay stared at him.

  “Can’t you tell he’s not finished eating yet, Mom?” She tossed her napkin onto her plate, exasperated. “Let a kid finish his meal in peace, at least.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Now I’m sure you’re going to come out with some stupid crap about how I never let you finish a meal in peace or something when you were a kid, right? I was such an abusive, inadequate mother, far as you’re concerned.”

  “That’s not true,” Lindsay spat back. “I can be reasonable when I want to be, you know.”

  “Yeah, right. You said it. When you want to be.”

  Romeo, Calvin and I finished our meal in a hurry and slunk away into the living-room discreetly. A short while later, Lindsay joined us.

  “Sorry ‘bout my mom there,” she told us morosely. “You can see why I don’t like to come here often.”

  Debbie pranced into the room.

  “How about that cake now?” She forced a smile. “Just sit tight here, lovely family, and I’ll put some tea on to brew to accompany. Do you think?”

  Calvin nodded encouragingly. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

  “You think this is funny, Annie?” Lindsay hissed glumly.

  I tried to school my face politely into something acceptable.

  Debbie deposited some mugs on the table before us, then waltzed in with a cake covered with shiny icing and seven blazing candles. A dazzling sparkler sizzled in the middle of it as well. I leapt to my feet to help her.

  “You shouldn’t have, Debbie,” I exclaimed. “This really is too much bother.”

  Debbie’s eyes dampened.

  “No bother at all, dearie. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve sung Happy Birthday to a child?”

  “That’s because you don’t celebrate birthdays,” Lindsay snapped. “Not ever since you joined this stupid sect. Dumb lot of you don’t even believe in birthdays.”

  Ignoring her, Debbie immediately proceeded to launch into her own particular rendition of Happy Birthday. We clapped in rhythm, then Romeo blew out the candles.

  “I love it. Thank you, Mrs Johnson,” he declaimed on cue. “But... I’m not seven.”

  A shadow crossed Debbie’s tense face.

  “You’re not seven? But... I thought, Lindsay told me...”

  “I said eleven, not seven,” Lindsay hissed. “Besides which, can’t you tell, Mom? Does he look seven to you?”

  Debbie glanced around, all confused. I felt sorry for her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It was so sweet of you to go to all that trouble. And the cake’s absolutely delish.”

  Calvin seconded his agreement, nodding enthusiastically and lifting his fork in the air. Debbie brightened.

  “Tell you what,” she said as we finished the last crumbs. “Why don’t I go for some reading material, to entertain you?”

  “I don’t think they’d be interested, Mom,” Lindsay cut in.

  Debbie shooed at her.

  “Now, don’t speak for other people, young lady. How do you know what they would be interested in?”

  She disappeared into the back of the house, then materialized with some pamphlets in her hands. She spread the pamphlets out on the coffee table in front of us.

  “Do you ever feel alone in the world, little ones? Like no one understands you? Like no one cares about you?” She gestured at her pamphlets. “I just want you to know that all that suffering is totally unnecessary. Not when Jesus Christ is always there with you.”

  Calvin began to fidget uncomfortably.

  “We appreciate your concern, ma’am,” he began. “But I don’t believe—”

  Debbie shushed him with a wave of her hand.

  “Just hear me out, young man.”

  She picked up one of the pamphlets and began to read from it.

  “I was blind, but now I see,” she quoted. “I used to be a wanton sinner, but I’ve since taken Jesus into my heart and now I have everything I need. I no longer feel the urge to prey on the carnal weaknesses of petty men anymore in exchange for money. My eyes have been opened. I know that Jesus will never abandon me.”

  She closed the pamphlet with a smile of self-satisfaction.

  “Jesus Christ forgives all sins, as you can see. And here’s another one.”

  Her hands shuffled through a pile of promotional material.

  “Once upon a time I used to get my thrills from indulging in abhorrent and aberrant acts of depravity. It used to be the highlight of my life. But I’ve since been made aware of the complete and utter repugnancy of my deeds and the senselessness of my existence. My ways have turned, thanks to the ministering of my lord Jesus Christ. I now devote my days to helping the people I once harmed. I will be eternally grateful to have received the privilege of becoming a Witness.”

  She beamed at us.

  “Would you like to receive that privilege too, lovely family? We’d be delighted to welcome an entire family into our fold.”

  Calvin coughed awkwardly. I made a face at Lindsay.

  �
��This is why she invited us?” I whispered at her behind my upraised hand.

  Lindsay glowered.

  “I thought for once she was just being nice,” she whispered back.

  “You know, Debbie, thanks so much for your hospitality but I’d really prefer it if Romeo got some fresh air and sunshine,” I hinted in a loud voice. “Maybe we could take him to a playground or something?”

  Calvin jumped to his feet a little too hastily.

  “That’s right,” he chimed up. “What say you, champ? Wanna go for a walk?”

  Romeo kicked at the floor with his new, shiny running shoes.

  “What I really want is to go home and play with Julian.”

  I scrambled to his side and almost pushed him out the door.

  “So sorry to rush out on you this way,” I said to Debbie. “We loved your meal and your generosity. You’re truly a superb cook. But you can see, he’s just a kid. And kids get restless.”

  “That’s right.” Calvin clapped a hearty smack against Romeo’s shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. What say you we go and pick up Julian, then get some ice-cream?”

  Lindsay smiled sheepishly at her mother and pecked a hasty kiss on her cheek.

  “See you soon, Mom.”

  She rushed out after us.

  “And the meal was splendid, as usual,” she called as she chased behind us.

  We dashed towards the bus stop until we were out of sight of Debbie’s home.

  “What was that all about?” Calvin gasped. “When did your mom go all nuts like that? Was she always this way?”

  Lindsay hung her head.

  “Sorry I dragged you into this. I thought it was just such a nice gesture of hers. I never expected...”

  I laid my hand on hers.

  “Don’t sweat it, Linds. Of course you never expected this.”

  She shook her head at Calvin.

  “And no, she wasn’t always like this. This is just a new interest that she took up in the past few years. She didn’t raise me this way,” she added, guessing the question on all our lips. “I’m not some frigging evangelical fanatic. I don’t go around preaching to other people.”

  “I thought you were searching for something,” I put in. “Isn’t that why we’ve all been running around after you lately, after all? Helping you check out all these new-fangled religions?”